


i won't ever be sorry.

by dougeiffel



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: F/M, be the content creator you want to see in the world blah blah blah, boy does ch. 2 get NASTY, i love these little vingettes, i tend to galaxy brain out when i listen to that playlist, so this was easier than just being like 'hm. wish there was fic.' lmao, they're so much easier to write than longform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25355731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dougeiffel/pseuds/dougeiffel
Summary: we are inescapable, fated to always be a hair's width apart from eternity. anything else would be immeasurable sin.a series of short scenes based on songs from this playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5uCvKNsQ9nS1B0VQ5K3TlY?si=QNP9f_w6QFKeEXBkz1YTkg
Relationships: Kaji Ryouji/Katsuragi Misato
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. if you're gonna lie - FLETCHER

Misato was hunched over, sitting on the toilet in the women’s restroom. She felt the sob shudder through her, open-mouthed. Her chest felt wrenched open, a cage with the bars pulled apart. She felt her heart fall into her hands. The bass outside thumped through her skin, through her synapses, reminding her every second that he was waiting out there for her.

It was all a blur, until the moment it wasn’t. She had been laughing, and glanced over at Kaji in the corner of her eye. The way he had loosened his tie, so casual, so causeless. It was brazen, like he wanted her to see. The smear of lipstick across his collar snapped her to attention, rigid in her seat.

Kaji had wanted her to see, but not out of cruelty. He meant it as an inside joke, wearing the shirt she had once messily pressed her mouth against, having missed his neck entirely. She had been laughing then, too. He had tried to find that laugh every day since. He thought this was what she wanted, clever little references, never saying what they both thought. That was her language now -- implications. References. Never looking him directly in the eye.

He had miscalculated, and the moment he saw her face change, he knew. They were beyond salvaging.

She wiped her mouth, smearing her lipstick across her hand. It made her want to vomit. She never expected anything from him; not love, not monogamy, not honesty. Never honesty. For a reason beyond her, this has felt like a punch to the stomach. The idea that someone else -- some _other_ , some faceless woman who looked nothing like her -- was so enamored with him that she would stain his clothes, it was nauseating. The idea that he would _let_ her brought Misato face to face with a fury even she could not comprehend.

She brought herself to her feet and pushed to the sink. The mirror wavered with the rhythm of the bar, and her reflection was staring back at her confrontationally. Her mascara was fucked. She smudged it in a way she hoped would be sexy, like her lipstick, now irreparably smeared across her mouth. She would be drunk, soon.

Later, in the sparse darkness of a hotel room, Kaji moved inside her. They were a monster of limbs to rival even the most horrific angel. He had her pressed against the mattress, bare back gleaming in the stripe of streetlight let in from the outside. He had not corrected the mistake, and could not explain why. Maybe the memory was not worth unearthing. He was consumed by the thought that Misato was being eaten alive by the image of him fucking someone else. Did it matter?

Misato was a willing participant, wanting to prove herself better, smarter, more fuckable than the other one. She came hard as he slammed into her, and let him come inside her. Would the other have done that? Was she committed? Did she come as hard? Did he like fucking her better? Was she simply a layover to another’s bed? As they lay, entangled, Misato felt her heartbeat slow to a whisper. He smelled like alcohol, and sex, and the barest whiff of a cologne she knew her college professor had worn, when they had slept together. It was a cold comfort that someone else may see the red-purple bruise she had sucked into the hollow of his hipbone.


	2. you and i - PVRIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we can meet in the middle, after it all.

The magnetism had always been there, since university. Since the very first moment, Kaji had known, and Misato had been terrified. They had seen each other at a job fair, across tables of people. She had felt him stare, something almost feral about him. Maybe he saw it in her too.

A month after breaking up, she saw him in the crowd. In the blur of faces, she recognized the back of his head, his hair. She ran towards him, stumbling over her own feet. She was sorry. It was a lie. There was no one else, and that was clear to her now, when she lay in bed, alone. He wouldn’t believe her, but she still needed to say it. No forgiveness could make her hate herself less, but knowing she told the truth was enough. 

“Ji!”

He didn’t turn; she didn’t expect him to. She reached him, panting, putting her hand on his elbow.

A stranger whipped around. He shouted something rude, continuing to walk away. Misato stood, eyes wide, frozen. She hadn’t even heard his response. Of course it wasn’t Kaji. Of course she would never tell him. Why should she? The truth would never benefit her. He could live with the lie; the truth would hurt more. She was afraid of herself.

Kaji watched her from across the restaurant. He’d come to have dinner and coffee, as he always did. Misato had been sitting there, in the booth at the back. She hadn’t seen him, and he almost preferred it that way. He watched as a handsome, tall man made his way back to her, sitting down. She didn’t light up, he noticed absently. She expressed almost no actual interest in him.

He chewed thoughtfully on a bit of meat. He was happy for her, happy to see her move on. He wondered if this was the man. Or if it had been a woman, long ago. She had never said, on that sweltering day. He remembered his feet sweating against the tatami flooring of their apartment, her quiet admission. Something not quite right, like a mirror but with the perspective just a little wrong.

He looked away as they became noticeably more drunk, more flirtatious. The strap of her dress had slipped, outlining the soft curve of her shoulder. He remembered her shoulder in his mouth.

They left, falling over each other. Kaji wondered if she lived near here, or if he did. Would they go back to a hotel? He felt disgusting, wondering this about her, and felt worse knowing it made him aroused just the slightest amount. He finished his coffee, and ordered a sake.

They sat, silently, across from each other. The meeting dragged on. Kaji felt the sweat drip down his back. NERV had neglected to give them an air conditioned conference room. He saw her shift uncomfortably in her seat. She had taken her shoes off, earning a glance of disapproval from Fuyutsuki, but no reprimand. She flexed her toes, rolling her eyes.

He grinned at her. She stuck her tongue out, fanning herself with a sheaf of papers.

She spun a strand of hair around her finger, mesmerized by the feeling. Kaji watched. If anyone were to look at him in that moment, he’d look glazed, checked out of reality, simply watching Misato. She was a wonder to him, still.

“Fuck, Kaji,” Misato swore quietly. The light from the slats in the door slanted in, revealing pieces of her to him in the dimness of the supply closet. They were in some hallway, lined with empty conference rooms.

Kaji had her hoisted against the wall, hand over her mouth, skirt around her waist. His other hand was occupied, slipped inside her and pressed against her clitoris, slick with desire.

He smiled. “You’ll get demoted if we’re found, _Major_.”

She moaned into his hands and felt him twitch against her leg. His fingers moved inside her at a pace she could barely keep up with; she felt dizzy.

Kaji pressed his face into her neck, biting down. “Come for me, Misato.”

She did, covering his hand with her own. She bit down on his finger so hard she was terrified she broke the skin. He kissed her neck as she came down, gently working his fingers out of her and removing his hand from over her mouth.

She made eye contact as she grabbed his hand and put his fingers in her mouth. A threat, and a promise.

It was almost comical, watching Misato stand across from him, defiant in the face of the truth. She would never face it, not until a day where his absence would be the only thing to convict her. His expression faded into obscurity.

“That can’t be, Ryoji. You know that’s not the truth. Who are you working for?”

He smiled. “You know who I work for.”

She looked so angry she might have spit at his feet were it not for the wind. “Your allegiance was never to NERV.” Never to me, she seemed to say.

“Are you going to tell Ikari?”

She stared at him for a long moment. He knew the answer was no. Misato may be disgusted by him, betrayed, annoyed, infuriated, but she wouldn’t have him killed. Not by any hand but her own, he had always thought.

Misato blinked, that was all. She had not known, or anticipated, that one day she would simply be sitting across from Kaji in a bar and would not feel anything. She felt _something_ , but nothing that she knew.

He was idly sipping a cocktail, looking around. His hand rested lightly on her leg. She felt that Newton may have misqualified gravity; she felt more held to the Earth now than she had in years. It had nothing to do with force -- more to do with love. The thought nearly toppled her.

She felt the old disgust, the tired, deep loathing. It rose in her chest and crawled into her throat, making her feel momentarily choked. There was no way he could love her, not after everything. She would find out he was lying. She would never deserve it.

Yet, he held her to the ground after it all.


	3. pray to god - Calvin Harris & HAIM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cowardice is close to godliness.

When Misato sees the angel, she comes crashing to the shore of a realization she is going to die.

She had always known, from the moment her father seized control of her life by way of death, that she would die. She assumed it would be something cruel, or meaningless. Now it seems it would be both, delivered by the cold hand of god himself.

Shinji was gone. Asuka was catatonic. Unit 00, and by extension, Rei, were in disrepair. She had nothing, she realized, she would miss. She would greet the Third Impact with empty hands and having failed. It was almost funny, how badly she’d done.

_ Except him _ . The thought wormed its way into the back of her brain. He knew his own impending fate by now, she was already sure. 

Misato turned to the bridge. “Estimated time of impact?”

In the chaos, Maya looked at her, nearly on the verge of tears. She knew, too, their inbound fate. “Fifty-six minutes, Major.”

“Is that the time to Nerv, or the time to Central Dogma?”

“We won’t know the ETA for Central Dogma until it’s here.”

She knew, in the back of her mind, Rei was suiting up, readying herself to die once more for a people that had consistently and unflinchingly failed her. It would be nothing, in the end; Rei would die, and the world would follow. The allegory of it all almost made her sick.

“Major?”

She was alone.

She heard the shouting as she walked off. The selfishness of it all galled her. She would not even try. Her final act would be one of cowardice.

He was there, he always was. Kaji stood among his garden, dirt on his forehead, gloves in his back pocket. 

“You can’t do anything, can you?”

She smiled weakly, filled with loathing. At herself or the angels, she could not discern. Perhaps they were not so different.

“Asuka can’t pilot. You’ve seen Unit 00.”

“You don’t think the boy would come back?”

“He...won’t.” She knew this. He wouldn’t speak to her when he left. He simply stared. Even if he got in Unit 01, there was nothing to tell her that soulless glare would relinquish a savior of mankind.

A rumbling passed through the world as Unit 00 slid smoothly into view. An arm was missing, the chestplate was not fully constructed. The pulsating S2 drive shone through, soul vulnerable. It moved with none of its typical grace, picking up a rifle from the adjacent repository. She wondered if Rei felt comfortable with a gun in her hands. She wondered if the killing was hard for Rei, in some part of her brain that recognized the biological truth; that she was closer to killing kin than enemy. 

“Well,” Kaji said, dusting his hands on his pants, smiling at her. “How do you want to do this?”

She simply stared. He kissed her on the cheek, a gesture she would have likely slapped him for on any other day.  _ Funny _ , she thought.  _ Yesterday I didn’t know I was going to die. _

They retreated into the small cabin nearby. For forty-two minutes, she told him she was sorry. As the roof shook, she did not weep. She let the simplicity of his arms around her shoulders be her last earthly boon.

“I loved you.”

“Loved me?” He sounded fake-hurt. “Not now? Not even when the world is ending, you can’t say you love me?”

“I can’t.”

He shrugged. “You never would, even if we lived past today.”

She would die a coward.


	4. st. patrick - PVRIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last words always were his best.

They’re dead.

That was the first, gut-dropping fear that sprung to Kaji’s mind when he heard. There was no way. The facility was hollowed out. Ritsuko and Misato were dead, or they would be soon. Through man or god, they would die, and he would be on the other side of the country.

It was the fastest he’d ever driven. He had to see them. He had to see Misato. He had to know. The coast glittered, alluring in the way you see in someone’s eyes that they are going to kill you someday.

Eva 04 hurtled towards Toyko-3, all sound and fury. The kids, they would handle it. They had to. Ikari was there. He would not need Kaji, not like his friends would, soon.

He would tell Misato, if she was dying. He would be honest, tell her he’d always loved her. Everything else had felt hollow; everything after her had been a farce. Even when he thought she had cheated, even after he knew she had not. It had never wavered once, despite his protestations. She was the thing, the person, he wanted to build his life around. The anxiety never swelled in him when she looked at him, even when the way she looked struck fear in him.

She gave him a brief respite from the danger, whatever infinity that was worth. 

He loved Ritsuko with all of his fierce heart. She inspired him, cared for him when no one else would. She was gentler and more self-sacrificing than many gave her credit for. He loved her, sometimes more than Misato, he thought. Differently, but the same. He spun around them, twin suns in his dying universe. He felt insular, but never lonely. Maybe that was the love Ritsuko gave him: knowing they would always be the same.

He felt a nauseating shockwave rip through him. If they were already dead, he feared he would never speak again.

Last words always were his best.


	5. samson - regina spektor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the bible never mentioned us, not even once.

Everyone had always known there would not be a wedding for them. They lived fated lives, on borrowed time, on stolen land and with farcical dreams. Misato never even entertained the idea of getting married; she reviled it on principle.

Kaji, ever the romantic. Ritsuko cautioned him against even bringing it up with Misato, and perhaps she was right. He fiddled with the ring in his pocket, the one he’d bought in college. His hair had been short, and she had drunk more coffee than beer, and they had lived in a humid apartment. He looked over at her one night, frantically studying for an exam the following day. The way her hair had fallen over her shoulder, the way she breathed, the way her eyelashes rested on her cheek when she eventually fell asleep at her desk, the feeling of kissing her on her forehead until she fluttered awake; it was all the impetus for the rest of his life. The inertia of that moment followed his actions, and would until the day he died. 

He knew it wasn’t the time, then. He knew it wasn’t the right time now. He would wait as long as necessary. Forever, if warranted. A borrowed forever sounded like the best outcome for himself, and spending it with her would not be the worst use of it. 

He watched her dance from his seat. She carried no grace with her; that was what made Ritsuko her better half. The wedding band played as couples grouped up, leaving Misato among few others, dancing by herself. She seemed to glow.

Kaji, the gentleman. He stood, pushing himself back from the table. Ritsuko gave him a quizzical look before directing her eyes towards Misato. He gestured vaguely, as if to ask if she approved. She shrugged.

He made his way towards her, through the thronging mass of fevered intimacy. Something about weddings made people almost unhinged, every one thinking they were the spotlight’s destiny. Every love story was the most important one. The little lies people told themselves to make them feel special, even on someone else’s day.

She looked surprised. “What?”

“I thought I would come dance with you.”

“You?”

He grinned. “You’re going to dance alone to a ballad?”

She begrudgingly took his hand, letting him lead, though not seamlessly. She kept trying to steer him, to which he politely redirected. She was staring off into the distance past his shoulder, determinedly not looking at him.

He led her across the floor until her posture softened, almost leaning into him. He didn’t talk as the band droned on, getting lost in the feeling of dancing and half-afraid that if he spoke, she would simply leave. The way her hair reflected the spotlight, the softest wisp of perfume coming off of her; all of it was part of a trance. Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

It still was not the right time.

He pulled her closer as the song slowed, the band attempting to make a gracious end to the evening. She rested her head lightly on his shoulder as they swayed in half-time. Maybe there was something to that delusion of being the only people in the ancient light of the stars, he thought. Maybe there was a legitimacy to this dizzy, ephemeral thing.

He felt himself smile, his spirit still watching from the table with Ritsuko. A glimmering, doomed facsimile of the romance that this was, he would not trade it. There were so few moments he could acknowledge the truth of it; that this would be enough.


End file.
